


farm fresh

by crownedcrusader



Category: The Legend of Zelda & Related Fandoms, The Legend of Zelda: The Ocarina of Time
Genre: F/F, Pregnancy, Sheik is Zelda, and projecting that want onto a fic, malsheik? in my fics? its more likely than you think, the author is mostly just really gay and thinking about having a farm with her wife someday :(, weird magic pregnancy but links technically the donor so whatever
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-28
Updated: 2019-05-28
Packaged: 2020-03-20 18:11:46
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,693
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18997867
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/crownedcrusader/pseuds/crownedcrusader
Summary: Zelda ran from the throne and her identity; Sheik finds love in Malon, and a future in Lon Lon Ranch.





	farm fresh

**Author's Note:**

> sheik is zelda and both are lesbians

The shovel hit the dirt, and the sound of metal hitting rock rang through the air.

“I think that’s enough for now, love.”

Sheik looked up from the pit she’d dug herself into. She drew a hand over her forehead to mop up the sweat, then looked over the ridge at her wife. “I hit rock just now,” she said, as if it needed to be said aloud. “I think this is deep enough for the foundation. We just need to dig this deep all through, and the foundation we build will be steady enough to last for generations.”

“Generations, huh?”

Malon rested a hand on her lower stomach, and Sheik grinned up at her. She crossed her arms on the ledge, then watched as her wife slowly got to her knees and leaned over for a kiss.

“Don’t strain yourself,” Sheik said automatically. It only earned her a _look_ from her wife. “I know, I know. You can handle yourself. Still. It’s not just _you_ you’re handling, is it?”

“Is that why you’re keeping me inside?” Malon pushed her hat back, so that the string hung around her neck, and the round brim rested against the back of her head and shoulders. It just barely blocked the setting sun, but the top of her hair was ringed with light. Sheik swallowed audibly at the picture it painted—at the way Malon was bathed in light from behind. And given the way she was smiling down at Sheik, and the hand outstretched to her—it made her look _otherworldly_.

Perhaps Malon had the blood of the goddesses in her rather than Sheik.

Then again, with the mound peeking up into her skirt, perhaps she had the blood of the goddesses in her after all. Even if it wasn’t Sheik’s seed, it was to be Sheik’s daughter through and through. With the blessings she and Link had laid into Sheik’s bride, it would be impossible for this child not to be Sheik’s through and through.

As Sheik gazed up at her wife, she was so stricken with want that it took her a moment to remember her voice.

“I don’t _keep_ you inside.” Sheik took the hand offered to her, and kissed the knuckles of it as if her wife was the royalty between them. “I could not— _would_ _not_ —keep you from anything your heart desires.”

“And if I want to race my horses, huh?” As Sheik’s face morphed into protest, Malon’s lips curled into a knowing smile, and she pressed a finger to Sheik’s lips. “Quiet, darlin’, I wouldn’t risk the little one.”

“Don’t tease me, you know I’m too serious for my own good.”

Malon laughed. Then, carefully, she pulled Sheik up. Sheik, not wanting to strain her wife, did her utmost to pull herself out of the dirt on her own. Once she was out of her pit, she stood in front of Malon, height far overshadowing her lover’s, and enveloped her into an embrace. The firmness of Malon’s belly pressed against Sheik’s—firm for far different reasons. And nothing had ever felt more right.

“You are as serious as you need to be,” Malon whispered. Then, she kissed her, lips soft as her voice.

Sheik returned it, long and sweet. Then she pulled back and rested a hand on Malon’s lower back. “Let’s go inside, my love. The sun is setting, and I think I know what to make you for dinner.”

“I can make my own supper, you know.”

“I know.”

“Then why are you so hell bent on making me a maiden a housewife, huh?” Malon cupped Sheik’s cheek, thumb tracing the sharp jut of bone. “I know making supper just feeds into being a housewife, so hush, I know that look, don’t even start—but I’d rather do that then the _nothing_ you insist on.”

“I’d hardly call it nothing—”

“’Preparing for the baby’ is too vague for me, and it’s not like you’re my boss. Her room is already set up, what more do you want from me, huh?”

Sheik kissed the corner of her lips. “I am not trying to shunt you to the side, dearest. Believe anything you would like, but don’t believe that for one moment.”

“Then let me be more than just the mother to your child.”

“Making clothes isn’t enough?”

Malon pulled back, then fixed her wife with a sharp look. Though they both knew Sheik was teasing, there was a bite to her gaze. She was still beautiful in the setting sun, but the sternness in her eyes cowed Sheik. “I can still do the vast majority of my usual chores.” She laid a warning hand on Sheik’s arm, squeezing ever so gently, but betraying her strength. Sheik could feel the years of callouses on her palm and fingertips, and she knew in an instant that Malon had won. “The cows like me better than you anyways—the cuccos, too.”

Sheik blushed.

“And,” Malon added, tucking a lock of hair behind Sheik’s ear, “If you try to churn the butter for me again, you’ll be sleeping in the barn until this baby is due.”

“Yes, your highness.”

Malon tsked, brushing her knuckles against Sheik’s cheek. “Nuh-uh, none of that.”

“I married you. You’re royalty.”

“Not since you abdicated the throne, I’m not.”

“But that’s just the thing.” Sheik leaned in to kiss her, slow and sweet. When she pulled back, she rested her forehead against Malon’s, gazing into her eyes with a slow smile and a warmth to her cheeks. “You’ll always be royalty to _me_.”

It lasted only a moment. But then a kick surfaced from inside Malon, and even Sheik felt it against her own stomach.

“Even our little one thinks we’re not royalty.” Malon grinned, leaning back with a hand over her belly. “I say the matter’s settled. Think you can do the same, sweetheart? Much as I love you calling me princess, I sure hope there’s no real root to it.”

Sheik rested a hand against the other side of Malon’s belly. “No, there’s no root to it at all.” She gently rubbed it, then pecked a kiss onto her wife’s cheek. “I wouldn’t wish royalty on anyone.”

When she looked back up at Malon, her wife’s expression was soft. “No,” she said. “I suppose you wouldn’t.”

A horse whinnied far off in the distance, and one of their many dogs’ barking reminded the pair of the setting sun and the need for an evening meal. So Sheik leaned in for a peck to Malon’s forehead then pulled away. She didn’t get far, though, before Malon leaned in and grabbed Sheik’s collar, tugging her in for a more proper kiss.

It was only then that Sheik was allowed away, with her hand intertwined with her wife’s as they walked away from the new house they were building. One with enough room for them, their child, and perhaps another—the goddesses willing.

Sheik wasn’t sure how she had gotten so lucky. Sometimes, she wasn’t sure how she had even managed to escape the crown and all its burdens.

Had she stayed, she would have stayed in the Castle forever, perhaps with a husband and a child by more natural means. Forced into being a wife and mother and queen—always second to her husband, always soft and pretty and gentle for the people. Never strong, never brave, never allowed to want.

It made Sheik shudder just to think of it.

But though she could imagine the life she would have lived in great detail, she couldn’t imagine any happiness in it, no matter how deeply she looked. So as the sun set on the foundation for her new home and cast unearthly light on her wife, Sheik could not help but murmur a quick prayer of thanks to both Nayru and Hylia.

One for the faith of the Triforce of Wisdom, and one—perhaps self-serving—to the goddess’s blood flowing through her veins and the goddess of the Sheikah.

Sheik had worked hard for her new life, but every sunset that led to a night spent with her wife was surely a miracle; a blessing from something beyond herself. And should her father or the royal army come knocking on her door, she would fight to defend it to her dying breath. The only weakness in her plan was the woman she had fought so hard for.

What would Sheik do, if Malon was ever hurt for Sheik’s abdication? For the disappearance of Zelda?

Before Sheik could start thinking too deeply on the possible consequences of her actions, her train of thought was disturbed by a hand on her cheek. A pair of blue eyes startled Sheik, especially with the way they stared so kindly into her own. “Are you with me, darlin’?”

Sheik smiled, and her eyes crinkled with it. “Always.”

Malon kissed her once more, and her lips were sweet. “Then help me inside, love.” At Sheik’s knowing grin, Malon pointed a finger up at her wife. “Not a word, or you’ll be rubbing my feet tonight.”

Sheik gently lifted her into her arms and carried her over the uneven doorway. Despite Malon’s squawk of indignation, she shifted her into a bridal carry, then pressed her lips firm against her wife’s soft cheek. “As if I would ever deny you such a service, my queen.”

“Queen?”

Malon’s finger traced along Sheik’s jaw, something wanting in her eyes, despite the warning about the royalty-related pet name.

“Mm. My apologies,” Sheik teased. She pressed her forehead against her wife’s. “My _Empress_.”

And though Malon protested it for the better part of the evening—her voice light and airy as a spring morning despite the mock-objections—they both knew Sheik was right. Or at least a little more serious than she would admit.

Sheikah had been devoted to the Goddess Hylia for ages. It was about time for the goddess’s descendant to give back some of that devotion to her people. Even if that person was only one woman. One beautiful, perfect, wholly deserving woman.

The throne could choke on its traditions.

Sheik was here to stay.


End file.
